


In Streamvoices

by voleuse



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-05
Updated: 2005-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>We live in this breach, we can lie there</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Streamvoices

**Author's Note:**

> Early S2, no spoilers. Title and summary adapted from Hugh Steinberg's _Your World_.

Chiana leans against the hull of the shuttle and makes a sound that settles somewhere between a hiss and a snarl.

"Settle down, Pip." John sits on the metal gangplank and tips his head back, face to the sun. "Aeryn and Rygel will be back soon."

She steps next to him, a short, arrhythmic hop, and crouches.

"This planet smells like _dren_, Crichton." She falls back with a thump. "Should have stayed on Moya."

He chuckles. "It was your idea to come down here."

"And why'd you come down, huh?" Her lip curls back. "You're not even helping with the trading."

He shrugs. "Felt like seeing the sky again." Squints up at the two suns. "Any sky."

She starts muttering again, a series of sharp obscenities that he tunes out after a while.

Instead, he turns his eyes from the sun and scans their surroundings again. The planet is, according to Pilot, better known for agriculture than commerce. As such, when they landed just outside a town, it was in the middle of a marsh. Apparently, there's a marsh vegetable that lasts for monens without additional preservatives and, as a bonus, it won't poison any of Moya's current passengers.

He's willing to take Pilot's word for it, since he's only had two major bouts of food poisoning since he joined the crew, but the only plants he can smell are moss and more moss.

And, of course, the scents of dirt and less pleasant substances, which linger in the humidity. Aside from the outskirts of the town, everything until the horizon is swamp and the draping branches of trees.

Chiana reaches another crescendo and jumps back to the ground again, her boots planting down with a firm squelch.

Aeryn and Rygel have barely been gone an arn, and John's seen the marathon haggling sessions at which Rygel's so adept.

He lies back, folds his arms behind his head, and breathes in the planetary stench.


End file.
